


Sweet, Fleeting Moments

by thevalleyarchive



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, College AU, Disabled Character, Discord: The People's Tomb (Locked Tomb Trilogy), F/F, Fluff, Gay Pride, Pride, The People's Tomb Fic Jam: Pride, here enjoy my crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalleyarchive/pseuds/thevalleyarchive
Summary: Dulcie is determined to make the most of whatever time she still has. Today, that means going to a pride festival with her friends and dancing with Corona's terrible sister.
Relationships: Ianthe Tridentarius/Dulcinea Septimus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Sweet, Fleeting Moments

**Author's Note:**

> To get over my writer's block, I decided to write a quick nothing about my favorite crackship, and since it lined up with this week's fic jam prompt, I figured I'd post it with that! Hope you enjoy!

The festival was as bright as it had ever been – brighter, even, to Dulcie’s eyes. It could be something philosophical and meaningful, some additional value imparted in every experience by the knowledge that she would not have many more. Or it could have been something as mundane as a change in perspective; perhaps the light simply hit her eyes at a different angle now that she sat in a wheelchair.

Her legs itched and tingled with the desire to stand and be buoyed along by the chattering merriment and the flow of iridescent rainbows, but she knew how quickly she would tire, how easily she could push herself too far and cough or vomit or faint, and so she just leaned back and lost herself in the cheery hubbub of conversation carried on by her friends. Camilla and Gideon were huddled together, excitedly exalting at the quality of the rainbow-sheen sword that Gideon had purchased a few stalls back. Dulcie smiled as she listened to Corona recount a play-by-play of their last lacrosse game. The progression of her disease had left Dulcie permanently benched, but she’d been forced to miss the previous game entirely for a doctor’s visit, and she had insisted on being caught up on it. Since Corona was also pushing her wheelchair, she’d been the perfect person to ask.

She knew that many of the people in her support group would’ve prickled if a friend had offered to push them around, and Dulcie didn’t blame them for that. For her, though, it was a simple calculation. If Corona pushed her anywhere that they went together, she could save the battery on her chair for when she wanted to do something on her own, just as she was saving the strength in her legs for when she wanted to do something that couldn’t be done on wheels. Dulcie’s life had become one big optimization problem, really. How to get the most out of the few years she had left, how to best leverage the strength that would run out before her time did. She’d joked with Palamedes about making some illustrative figures to help keep it all straight, though she didn’t think he’d found it as amusing as she did.

They paused next to a stand selling giant pride flags. Gideon shoved her sword into Camilla’s hands and started grabbing flags down for each of them – three bis and a lesbian. Dulcie chuckled to herself – that sounded like the setup to a joke. Three bis and a lesbian walk into a bar… She cut off her musing to protest as Gideon went to pay for all of them.

“I have my own money, Gideon!” she said, “and you just bought a sword! Let me get these! Save what you have left.”

“It’s called spending money for a reason, Dulcie,” Gideon said with a careless wave. “Besides, I’ve never gotten to buy things for friends before.”

“Dulcie’s right, you should’ve saved some money,” Corona said, smirking. “Then maybe you could buy a better fake ID.”

“I make great fake IDs,” Cam muttered defensively.

“You rely too much on bouncer apathy,” Corona said sweetly.

“It’s efficient!” Cam insisted. “Why should I spend ten hours on details that nobody’s going to check?”

“Guys, stop arguing and look at how cool I look!” Gideon said.

Dulcie looked. Gideon had tied the lesbian flag around her neck, and it now fell like a cape down her back. Gideon struck a pose and flexed. Between the cape, her aviators, and the sleeveless black shirt that showed off her muscled biceps, well; Dulcie took a very, very good look.

“You look stunning, Gideon,” she said, smiling widely. Gideon looked at her and flushed, so, just for fun, Dulcie batted her eyelashes dramatically. Gideon flushed darker and looked away, clearing her throat loudly.

“Do you, um, do you want me to tie yours for you?” Gideon stammered, not quite managing to look at Dulcie directly, which made her laugh.

“I can tie my own,” she said. “Toss it here.”

When they had all finished securing their own flag-capes, Camilla gave herself a critical once over. “We really need more of a breeze to get the most out of the cape look,” she said.

“Or we could run really fast,” Corona suggested.

Dulcie chuckled. “I could get a booster rocket attached,” she said. “Maybe a spoiler and some flame decals, just to complete the effect.”

“Fuck, that’d be hot,” Gideon said.

And so they continued, passing from booth to booth, stopping here and there to chat with the odd familiar face. Gideon caused a small stir by giving a quick exhibition with her new sword, and Camilla had found a few stray sticks and challenged her to a duel. Eventually, though, afternoon gave way to evening, and they made their way out of the festival.

“Okay,” Corona said, “do any of you have other plans this evening? Because if not, everyone with a _passable_ ID –“

“– they work fine, Corona –“

“– can come to the Canaan Club with me,” she finished. “I’m meeting my sister there for a proper party.”

“And suddenly, I have other plans,” Camilla said.

“Oh come on!” said Corona. “She’s been having a really hard time lately, and I swear she’s less of a bitch than she used to be.”

“Yeah, the sea is drier than the ocean, too,” Gideon muttered.

“I think a party sounds like a great idea,” Dulcie interjected. “It’s been way too long since I’ve been to one.” And how many more chances would she have to spend an evening drinking with pretty strangers?

Gideon wavered. “If Dulcie’s going, I guess I can tag along,” she finally said.

“Traitor.” Camilla rolled her eyes. “Fine, Corona. But if I’m drunk and she says something shitty, I can’t promise that I won’t –“

“– hatefuck her in the corner?” Dulcie inserted innocently. Camilla bristled, and Corona blanched.

“None of you are allowed to sleep with my sister,” she said with a shudder.

“Won’t be a problem, trust me,” Gideon said solemnly.

Dulcie gave Corona her most sinful smile. “I promise I won’t sleep with your sister, Corona,” she said sweetly. “Again.”

“Ugh!” Corona threw up her hands in disgust and Dulcie powered on her chair’s motor took back manual control as she laughed.

The club was only a few blocks from the festival grounds, and despite Corona’s teasing, Gideon and Camilla’s fake IDs passed muster. Dulcie led them through the door and into a dark space full of flashing lights, pounding bass, and gyrating bodies.

“Let’s go find Ianthe!” Corona shouted, barely audible over the music.

“I’m gonna get some drinks first!” Dulcie shouted back. “I’ll find you in a minute!”

“You’ll be okay?” Gideon asked, also shouting.

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m hard to spot!” Dulcie yelled. “See you soon!”

Fortunately, there was a decent little aisle between the dance floor and the bar, and it didn’t take Dulcie long to navigate around the perimeter and emerge with a tequila sunrise carefully grasped in her left hand. She glanced around, searching for her friends, but they weren’t immediately apparent. To her surprise, though, she did spot a pale blonde woman skulking at a table near the back of the room, well away from the dance floor. Unlike nearly everyone else in the room, she was all but devoid of colorful pride decorations, of rainbow glitter or dye or flags or shirts. Her only apparent concession to the occasion was a small blue, pink, and violet crescent moon painted in the hollow of her cheek. Dulcie made her way over.

Ianthe looked up as she approached, a not-atypical look of disdain on her face that was interrupted by a brief flash of surprise as she took in Dulcie’s wheelchair. Dulcie supposed that they hadn’t really seen each other in nearly a year – she must not have heard. Certainly at that lacrosse team party, Ianthe had gotten a first-hand demonstration of how mobile she had been. Dulcie smiled at her as she approached.

“If you’re looking for a repeat of our last encounter, I’m not interested tonight,” Ianthe said dismissively as soon as she was within earshot.

“That’s not what I’m here for,” Dulcie said with a slight smile. “I’m here with your sister, actually. She was looking for you.”

Ianthe snorted. “She invited other people,” she said. “Corona thinks I need to make friends. Fuck that.” She gave a dismissive gesture, and Dulcie realized with a start that the bottom half of her right arm had been replaced with a sleek-looking prosthetic. That was new.

“You look different,” she said.

Ianthe raised an eyebrow and gave Dulcie a scornful once-over. “So do you.”

Dulcie let the vitriol flow off her like water. She remembered what the early days of being wheelchair-bound had felt like. She could indulge Ianthe’s prickliness a bit. So she said, “You look good.”

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” Ianthe all but snarled at her.

Okay. There were limits to Dulcie’s patience. “Do you think I want people’s pity either?” she asked, a hint of heat coloring her voice.

“How should I know? There’s been exactly one time that I’ve cared about what you wanted,” Ianthe shot back. The attempt at vitriol seemed half-hearted to Dulcie’s ears. More defensive than anything.

“Well, you should know I don’t do bullshit, then,” Dulcie said, “I don’t have enough time left for it. You do look good.”

Ianthe didn’t immediately respond to that. Instead she looked down and awkwardly scratched at the socket where her prosthetic joined to her elbow. After a few moments, though, she asked, “How long, uh…”

“Oh, a few years,” Dulcie said with a casual wave. The immediacy of that fear, that knowledge of encroaching oblivion, had faded in the months since she’d been given her prognosis. The fear was a dull ache, ever present, but not all-consuming. “My mobility will fully degrade well before I die, though, so I really have a good bit less than that. Got lots of living to fit in there.”

“Oh,” Ianthe said, and really, what else was there to say? Dulcie watched with some amusement as Ianthe opened and then closed her mouth, soundlessly.

“Now you’re pitying _me_ ,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Everyone seems so sure that you’re a stone-cold bitch.”

“Who says I’m not?” Ianthe said, puffing up indignantly, and Dulcie had to laugh.

“Can I look at your arm?” Dulcie asked. “It looks really well-made.”

Ianthe hesitated for a minute, then held her arm out towards Dulcie. Up close, Dulcie could see just how polished the brassy surface was, how much time Ianthe must be spending on taking care of it. There was a faint filigreed pattern in the surface, she realized, nearly the same color as the base material so as to be almost invisible. The pattern resembled an ulna and a radius, precisely and accurately detailed.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Is it custom? Did you make it?”

“No,” Ianthe said, not quite managing to keep her voice sounding careless. “A.. a former friend, I suppose, made it for me. I got the patterning done later.”

“Does that place do wheelchair mods?” Dulcie asked. “I should really do some accessorizing.”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but I could give you his number,” Ianthe said. “He used to work at the university.”

“Thanks.”

They sat there for awhile, not talking. Dulcie realized as she sipped her drink, with no small amount of surprise, that it was a comfortable silence.

Eventually, Ianthe seemed to grow restlessly. She said, awkwardly, “I, uh, didn’t exactly pay attention to your name, the last time we met.”

“No, you were very focused on other things,” Dulcie said, amused. “It’s Dulcie.”

Ianthe nodded and smiled. “I promise not to forget it again unless you irritate me. What exactly were you planning to do here?” she asked. “This place doesn’t have a lot of options for you.”

“Sure it does,” Dulcie said. “I came to dance.” A smile split her face as she looked at Ianthe, who was not quite managing to hide her confusion. “Would you like to dance with me?”

“I – can you do that?” Ianthe asked, her brow furrowing doubtfully.

“I’m not immobile yet, especially if I take things a bit slow and don’t go for too long,” Dulcie said, and began to rise from her chair. Her legs groaned under her weight, but the feeling of stretching them after a day sitting was heavenly. She looked back to Ianthe. “I’ve got a lot of living I still want to do, so I’ve been saving my strength today for something important.” She offered Ianthe her hand.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ianthe took it, and led her out on to the dance floor, ordering the people she bumped into to make room in acid tones. This kept Dulcie from being jostled too badly, for which she was grateful.

Dulcie glanced around at the writhing, undulating forms around her. “I think I need to get my blood flowing a bit before I’m ready to do _that_ ,” she said. “Help me warm up a bit?”

The song was not slow, but Ianthe gently took Dulcie’s hand in hers, placing her other hand on Dulcie’s hip, and began to revolve with her, like twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. Dulcie laughed aloud, both at the ridiculousness of the situation and at how nice it was, how nice to be moving and dancing, dancing at her own speed in a world that moved so fast and contained far more wonders than she could ever hope to experience. And when she looked back at Ianthe, there was the ghost of a smile on her lips, and that made Dulcie laugh again. She leaned forward and rested her head on Ianthe’s shoulder and just savored the moment, locking it into her memory.

This was a moment worth keeping. When she was bedbound in not so long of a time, this would be a moment she could look back on and cherish.

She felt Ianthe’s breath hitch slightly, and she smiled wider. Then she heard the sound of Corona’s voice, high and excited, waft over the crowd. “Thank god, there’s my sister, that took for fucking ev – “ Her voice cut off mid-sentence and she let loose a betrayed shriek. “Dulcie! You promised!”


End file.
